Suburban Fun and Games
by jarec
Summary: The Joker sees an opportunity for fun in the suburbs. Will Harley get to live out her fantasies of domestic bliss? Or will the Mad Mountebank shatter her dreams? FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

It all began with a run of the mill home invasion. The Joker and Harley had just made their exit from Arkham Asylum, and were making their way back to Gotham via a small suburb called Lonesome Pines- a dull little stretch of modern america, composed of strip malls, identical houses, clean streets and small parks. The Joker was nauseated by the whole place- it was all an illusion crafted to allow the suburbanites to pretend that violence, injustice and decay were mere legends rather than the key elements of the world. It was a soulless, dead wasteland populated by people who'd traded life and freedom for safety and a dental plan.

Still, he wanted to slip back into Gotham quietly and this was the best way to do it. Anyone with even a passing knowledge of the Joker knew he typically avoided suburbia like the plague.

It was for this reason that the Clown Prince of Crime and his moll were cruising along Tranquility Road on a warm July evening. The Joker had been silent for a long time, as he planned what to do to announce his triumphant return to Gotham, and Harley was idly daydreaming as she drove down the uncrowded avenue. She pictured life with her beloved Mista J in one of these cozy little houses with their white picket fences- barbecuing together, driving the kids to school, capturing and torturing the mailman…

She was snapped out of her reverie by the Joker's hand on her shoulder. "Stop here!" he snapped. No sooner had the purple convertible pulled over, then the lanky lunatic leapt over the door and raced to a nearby house. He was halfway up the front walk when Harley joined him, and asked what they were doing.

"Obtaining funds, oh-ye-of-little-brains" the Joker replied "We have a lot saved up in my many dummy accounts, but I can't get to it until we're in the city. We need money to get us into Gotham- gas money, bribe money, food money, money for ammunition, money for clothes, money for goons, money to get Bud and Lou out of the zoo…"

"So, we're gonna rob these folks, Puddin'?" Harley asked.

"KEE-RECT my dim little Clown" the madman said, straightening his tie as reached the door. "These particular suburban slugs seem to have a lot of nice things. But more than that, look at the lawn. What do you see? Never mind, I know you won't get it. I see a For Sale sign with a sticker on it saying Sold. Plus, that Porsche in the drive has cans attached to it. These folks are new here, and they're newlyweds, so there's less chance of the neighbors getting concerned about odd noises. In fact, if we're lucky, the neighbors won't be suspicious for days! After all, we all know that newlyweds like their privacy! HAHAHAHAHAHAA!"

Harley sighed. Her man was a genius, that's all there was to it. She watched, enraptured, as her wonderful lover rapped on the door. After a moment, a man opened the door wide. He was very nearly the Joker's height and almost as skinny but that's where the similarity ended. This man had thinning brown hair, acne scars and glasses. "yes, can I help you?"

"Why yes my good sir" The Joker said courteously as he shoved the man backwards into the house "Yes, I believe you can. Get the door Harley, we mustn't leave our hosts all the work."

Afterwards, when the newlyweds were nothing more than grinning cadavers on the living room floor, the Joker decided to investigate this suburban jail cell. He left Harley to dispose of the bodies and ventured upstairs. The couple, Alice and Paul Stebbs, had just finished moving in, and their choice of décor in the hall lived down to the Joker's expectations. Cheap, mass-produced furniture and overly bright carpeting, combined with a number of bad knock-off paintings. No portraits- doubtless something so maudlin had no place in their public image. He'd barely spoken to the Stebbs' yet he already knew them; young, ambitious, pretentious. He felt nothing but contempt for them, and was glad they were dead.

Entering the master bedroom, he paused to empty the jewelry box into his pocket- gaudy though they were, he was sure Alice's jewels would be worth something. The closet seemed like a good place to look for more valuables.

Harley had quickly finished dismembering the bodies- she had a lot of experience- and was putting them into various plastic bags (for easy transport), and idly pictured what life would be like in this house. As usual, her daydreams bore a striking resemblance to a 1950's sitcom. Her Puddin' would come home after a long day at the office, and greet her with a kiss. Joker Junior and Little Harlene would run up to give their father a big hug, chattering nonstop about setting Teacher's coat on fire (while she was wearing it). 'Dad' carving the roast for dinner, making high pitched screams with every stroke of the knife while the kids laughed… she sighed.

Those were nice dreams, but they wouldn't be happening any time soon. The Joker was simply far too driven a man- his commitment to his goals too close to obsession- for any such future to be realized. He was just such a classic type A personality, and unsuited to the slow pace of domestic life. Such personalities tended to work themselves unceasingly, as any psychologist knew, so Harley had to put her dreams of family bliss aside…at least until that mean ol' Bratman was out of the way!

She heard footsteps approaching, and ran out into the hallway, determined to show her Puddin' what a good job she'd done. She stopped when she saw the Joker, and stood with her mouth open in shock. The Joker had changed his clothes, abandoning his trademark purple zoot suit in favor of brown slacks and a dark green sweater vest. On his feet were light brown loafers and in one hand he carried a wooden pipe. It was as though her dream had come to life.

"Will you look at this, Harl? The poor shlub who lived here was just my size! Pity he didn't have better taste in clothes or we could have taken some with us" He noticed his sidekick standing mute in the hallway, staring at him. "What are you staring at?!" He snapped "Get the bodies together and-"

DINGDONG! The doorbell chimed cheerily, interrupting the crazed clown's instructions.

The Joker snapped his attention back to Harley "I'll get the door. You get those bodies out of sight!" The Joker strode to the door. Before opening it he looked back and made sure Harley was out of sight, then he swung the door open.

On the step stood a youngish black couple- he was short and beginning to lose his hair, while she was clearly putting on weight. They were dressed in nice clothes, and he carried a casserole dish which steamed gently in the night air. Both looked extremely startled at his appearance- but soon recovered.

"Oh, I'm sorry a-are we interrupting something?" the man said, timorously.

The woman shot her (husband? He assumed so. Domestic lemmings were so predictably traditional) an angry look and lightly slapped him on the arm. "George! Can't you see he's getting ready for a costume party? We'll come back another time, we just wanted to introduce ourselves.

The Joker had long ago noticed that the teeming masses rarely believed that he was , in fact, the Joker. He had become such a dark legend in Gotham- such a malignant myth- that they couldn't believe that he could look anything like his real appearance. This in spite of the dearth of photographs of him circulating- the plebes just couldn't believe he looked human. The Clown Prince of Crime had listened to stories that described him as seven and a half feet tall, with the physique of that Blue Buffoon of Metropolis. Others gave him fangs like a demon, and skin that actually glowed in the dark. They never expected him to look like a pale, green haired, lanky man- it was just too ordinary. With that in mind, and given his unusual clothes, he probably should have expected them to assume his face was part of a costume.

'Mind you,' he thought 'It's always such fun proving my identity…' And that gave him the idea for a whole new game.

"Oh, don't worry about it." he said " Always got time to meet the neighbors. Come on in!"

A/N

The comments on suburban life are meant to reflect the view of the Joker and Harley, not my own.


	2. Chapter 2

The Joker led the couple into the main parlor of the Stebbs former home- much to the surprise of Harley Quinn. The couple gave her outfit a glance and noted what a fine costume it was.

"Very realistic" George commented "But I think that Harley woman is a lot older than you are, and nowhere near as fit. Wouldn't you say so, Doris?"

"Harley, be a dear and put the kettle on, would you? I'll be there in a minute" The Joker said, in a surprisingly gentle voice. Harley hadn't heard him speak to her like that in years- not since their time together in Arkham, actually. "George, Doris, have a seat while we make some coffee. Make yourselves at home"

Once they were in the kitchen, with the door closed behind them the Joker pulled her close- not very gently, and his face was angry, but still she relished the feel of his breath on her skin. "Listen to me very carefully, Harley. These people- the Mayfelds- believe that we are Alice and Paul Stebbs, on our way out to a costume party. You will NOT disabuse them of this notion, clear?"

"S-sure thing, Puddin'. But why?"

"Because it's what I want and I will have what I want and that should be reason enough" The Joker moved to the pantry and started to search the contents "What do lemmings normally serve with coffee? Cookies, right? I thought I heard Oswald say that once…or was that tea?"

Harley couldn't believe it. She was getting a chance to live out her dreams! A normal life with the most wonderful man on Earth! Okay, yes, for now it seemed to be a purely temporary thing and probably just the build-up to some big joke, but she could work with that. She could show her Mista J the joys of the settled life, the bliss of marriage, and the simple happiness of family. It wouldn't be easy but she KNEW she could do it! Suddenly, the Joker was right in her face, and angry.

"What is taking so long?" he hissed "They expect coffee! Move it!" The Joker strode out of the kitchen, bearing a plate with cookies. She could just hear him offering them to his 'guests' before the door swung shut.

When she emerged with the coffee, she saw the Joker seated in an armchair across from the neighbors. Everyone seemed very relaxed, and were chuckling over something. The woman, Doris, waved Harley over in a friendly manner.

"Alice! Your husband's the most charming man I've ever met! So witty and polite! And a research chemist, to boot! You're so lucky to have caught him." There was nothing but sincerity in the woman's voice, and Harley found herself liking the old girl. So many people didn't see Mista J's good qualities, which seemed so blindingly obvious to her- instead getting hung up on the whole 'murder and mayhem' aspect.

"Yeah, I know. My baby turned my whole life around and I thank God every day for blessing me with him." Harley said, setting the drinks down on a small wooden coffee table. "Help yourselves"

"Now, George" the Joker said "You were telling me about this neighborhood barbecue you'll be hosting tonight?"

"Yes" George said as he sipped his coffee "Its not really a neighborhood thing, just us and the Mills from across the way- we came over to see if you wanted to come"

"AND to bring some of my cooking!" Doris sad, with a smile to her host

"Yeah, but we can see you're heading out to a party, so maybe another time."

"Now hold on a moment, Gorgeous George" the Joker said "The costume party is being thrown by one of Harley's friends- one I've never particularly liked. Harl, do you think Pam would mind if we didn't go?" There was nothing in his voice but honey, but Harley could see from the way he gripped his armrest that she had better answer quickly and correctly.

"No, in fact I doubt she'll even notice. Red's not much of a people person." Harley was relieved to see her man's grip on the leather chair relax. She'd guessed right.

"Well then, I think we'll give it a miss. She and I never have fn together."

"Are you sure?" George said "We'd hate for you to miss out on your friend's party"

The Joker extended his left hand, palm up. "Party with some one I hate". He extended his other hand, also palm up "Barbecue with new neighbors". He raised and lowered each hand, as though weighing two objects, while he put on an expression of deep thought. "Party with someone I hate or barbecue with new neighbors? Hmmmmm…. As much as it pains me to miss the Red Airhead's party, I think we'll be joining you kids for dinner tonight. Give us an hour to get ourselves into some real clothes and we'll be right there."

"Great!" George exclaimed as he and his wife rose to leave "You're going to love Ted Mills- he's a real clown! I promise you, you'll never meet a funnier man."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that" the Joker said as he led his guests to the door. "I've been known to make the occasional joke myself."

As soon as the Mayfelds left, the Joker turned to Harley "Go to the car and get the emergency makeup kit. The skin color as well as the hair dye. Then go take off your makeup and see what ol' Alice left that you can wear. And be quick about it! We have a barbecue to attend!"

As they prepared, the Joker briefed his girl on the story he'd told the Mayfelds. They were a newly wed couple who'd moved from Central City to start a life in the safety of the suburbs. He was a research chemist, seeking employment in Gotham, while she was a secretary turned homemaker. They were both to act a little nervous about Gotham- the big dangerous city.

Within an hour, the Joker had transformed himself. Gone was his trademark pallor and green hair, and he wore a simple black tee shirt over a pair of slightly faded blue jeans and a Gotham Knights baseball cap. Harley had originally chosen a set of Daisy Dukes and an orange shirt, but the Joker had simply slapped her and told her to get something less conspicuous. She reappeared later wearing a simple white shirt and black pants, with her hair down around her shoulders. Apparently satisfied 'Paul' took her hand and led her next door.


	3. Chapter 3

The Mayfelds' backyard was the very picture of Suburbian greenery. A well-maintained lawn, green and verdant without a single weed. A neatly arranged flowerbed in the upper right hand corner, covered in brightly colored flora. A small jungle gym set, made of brightly colored plastic. It was almost exactly like the yard next door, which was just like the yard next to THAT, and so on and so on ad infinitum. There was one distinguishing feature to this yard, however: a colossal brick barbecue pit, complete with chimney. From this pit rose the savory smell of various cooking meats, a smell which made Harley's stomach rumble. They hadn't stopped to eat since their escape from Arkham yesterday.

The neighbors were clustered around the barbecue, talking and laughing. It'd been a long time since Harley had socialized with civilians, or as they were referred to in Rogue parlance, Lemmings. She was a little nervous about how to proceed- as Harlene Quinzell, making a first impression had been of the highest importance to her and she had always hesitated to make sure that she would impress her 'audience'. The Joker evinced no such hesitation, striding boldly up to the throng and making his presence known.

"George! Doris! We're here!" He called, and held up the bottle of wine they'd found in the kitchen "And we brought the booze! Ha ha ha!"

'Even his laughter's changed!' Harley realized. Normally the Joker's laughter sounded less like mirth than it did like screaming- or at least, that's how other people described it, Harley thought it sounded beautiful. Now though, it sounded more like normal laughter- warm and human and ordinary.

"Hey George! Who's the new guy?" called one of the neighbors, a man Harley didn't recognize. He was a little taller than average (meaning he came up to Mista J's chin) and on the heavy side. He had sandy hair which he wore a little longer than was fashionable, and was dressed in a hawaiian shirt and shorts. His smile made Harley suspect he was a used car dealer- it was a little too wide and oily to be real.

"That's Paul and Alice Stebbs, the new couple on the block. Paul this is Ted Mills, the neighborhood clown."  
George made the introductions without taking his eyes off the grill.

"Pleased to meet you, Ted" the Joker said, offering the other man his hand. Surprisingly, the handshake was unmarked by screaming or buzzing.

"Quite a grip you got there, Paul." Ted said, withdrawing his left hand "So, you kids just moved in huh? What do you think of our town?"

"Better be complimentary Paul, Ted's on the city council!" Doris called out from off to one side.

Harley stood with the other wives, watching as the Joker charmed the men. He was witty, friendly, and warm and they ate it up. She'd never seen him like this- she'd always known he was a consummate actor but this was amazing. It was as though he really was Paul Stebbs, average suburban schmoe. Meanwhile, Harley was having a hard time fitting in with the other women. They were just so…so dull! They spoke about their mundane jobs, their banal personal problems, their miserable hopes… She was used to talking about bomb plans and mayhem, trading stories about desperate battles high above the city streets! This stuff was killing her!

Just when she felt herself on the edge of death by ennuie, three small children raced from the house. They stopped in front of Doris and began to clamor for her attention.

"Jimmy! Mary! Tom!" the beleaguered woman cried "What are you three doing outside? I asked you to stay out of the way!"

"Momma, it's so boring in there!" cried the girl, Mary presumably "Can't we stay out for a little while?"

"Oh, come on Doris!" the Joker said, striding over to where the kids were "Let the little tykes have some fun!"

"Well, all right. You kids say hello to mister Stebbs, and thank him for talking me into this!" Doris said, winking at the most wanted killer on the planet.

"Doris, I do believe you have me confused with my father. I'm plain old Paul, to one and all" the Joker leaned down and solemnly offered his hand to the eldest boy. "Shake hands, son." The boy placed his small hand in the tall man's grip. They shook once, but when the boy pulled away, he found he was holding three candy bars. His eyes went wide and he gaped at the adult in amazement.

"How'd you do that, mi- Paul?" he said in tones of awe. His brother and sister also stared up at this tall stranger (although they were not so stunned that they forgot to take their candy bars from their big brother).

"Magic, m'dear boy, isn't it obvious?" And with that the Joker began to entertain the entire gathering with various tricks and feats of illusion. From there he progressed to juggling, eventually keeping three plates and a lump of charcoal (still glowing with heat) in the air. Everyone applauded…except Harley who was mystified by this new facet of the Joker.

Later, when the gathering broke up, Harley and the Joker headed back to 'their' house. The Joker was smiling a rather subdued version of his normal grin, while Harley kept up a happy face.

"I liked them, Alice" the Joker said "Didn't you?"

"Uh, yeah sure Mis- Paul" Harley stammered. If he'd called her Alice in private, then he meant to keep up the act 24/7. Suddenly she felt a burst of hope in her chest. This would be the perfect opportunity for her plan- she could gradually get her Puddin' used to a settled life. Oh sure, she'd have to introduce a LITTLE more fun into their lives, but what relationship didn't take some work? "You, uh, wanna go to bed Paul?"

"Don't tell me your tired sweetheart! I was hoping you'd be feeling that old amorous urge tonight!" the Joker said with disappointment written on his face.

Harley grabbed his arm and dragged him into the house. She didn't get enough of her Puddin' at the best of times. They hadn't been together in months- not at all in Arkham (where the meanie doctors kept them separate as much as possible) and since their escape they hadn't had any free time. Racing upstairs, she reflected that now she might get more of her lover's attention.

* * *

An hour later the Joker was fast asleep on his side of 'their' bed. Harley meanwhile lay in bed with a disturbing lack of satisfaction. Normally, her sex life was fierce, sporadic and painful- with lots of biting and binding and yes, beating. She'd always enjoyed it, but at the same time she'd always longed for something more romantic. The sex tonight had been everything she daydreamed about- slow, loving, gentle and attentive. There'd been lots of kissing, and foreplay, and cuddling and soft words…and she hadn't felt even the stirrings of an orgasm- she'd actually faked it so she could get some rest!

'Maybe tonight was just a bad night' she thought, as sleep began to claim her 'Yeah, that's probably it. With all the stuff goin' on right now, I couldn't really enjoy it like I always wanted. Tomorrow will be better…'

With a yawn, Harley fell asleep and dreamed of her new life.

A/N

I've noticed online that quite a few people complain about the way Harley and Joker's relationship is portrayed in the comics. I've heard complaints that the Joker never shows any love or tenderness or even affection for Harley, only abuse. There's a reason for this.

The Joker and Harley are a textbook case of an abusive relationship- he hits her, he insults her, he threatens her and she takes it all. Now, I've said before that the Joker does love Harley, that's not the issue here. But DC is in a very delicate position, here. If they ever show this relationship in a really positive light, they will be accused (and rightly) of glorifying abusive relationships. Women's rights groups will say that the company is effectively saying "Yes, he treats her like dirt, but it's okay because he also shows he cares". It would legitimize her staying with him- making it romantic rather than delusional and possibly infulencing women who are trapped in such relationships in real life.

DC had to walk a fine line here- they had to give Harley a reason to be with the Joker without making their relationship seem in any way positive or healthy. I for one think they were doing a good job- and that they will continue to do a fine job when the Joker inevitably reunites with Harley Quinn. Let's face it, Harley without the Joker just isn't as interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

Harley had to admit one thing; morning here in the 'burbs was a lot more pleasant than mornings in Gotham City proper. In the city, the smog and smoke were so thick that you couldn't tell that the sun was actually up until about eight thirty. Even then, the thick haze over the city turned the sunlight blood red most days. Factor in the noise and the smells endemic to the big city, and it was easy to see why so few Gothamites were 'Morning People', and tended to greet the day with a scowl rather than a smile. Like most citizens, Harley got through the period between arising and the first sip of coffee by telling herself that tomorrow would be easier.

Not here, though. Here the sun could be seen gently cresting the horizon, slowly bathing the quasi-urban landscape in its golden radiance. The morning still was undisturbed by car horns, screams, slamming doors, gunshots, cursing or any other loud noise. Instead, the chirping of birds filled the air broken only by the clickety-clack of the paperboy's bicycle. Suburbanites arose earlier than did their city-dwelling counterparts, but they did so with a minimum of fuss. A few greetings rang out, as neighbors wished one another well before beginning the commute to Gotham. Harley bore witness to all this, because she had been awakened by the Joker at around half past six.

Normally, the Joker awoke his moll by kicking her until she woke up, or by dousing her with cold (or very hot) water, or sicced the hyenas on her… something like that. He didn't gently nudge her, and ask her to make the coffee while he went to shower. That wasn't how things worked- and despite the lack of pain, Harley didn't like the change. In a way that bothered her- hadn't she often wished Mista J would be a little gentler? Isn't this more or less what she'd had in mind?

She considered that question as she made breakfast- the Joker's usual wake-up feast of coffee, bacon, eggs, cereal and juice all sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Why wasn't she happy here, essentially living out her dreams? At first, she considered that it might be the lack of kids. After all, Joker Junior and little Harlene had always been a big part of her dream life. She ruled that out, however, not on the basis of logic or reasoning but because it didn't feel like the right answer. It didn't feel like the situation was missing something- rather that it was fundamentally wrong. She continued to mull it over as she cooked.

After a few minutes she heard her Puddin' come down the stairs, whistling some inane pop ballad. He stuck his head in the kitchen and Harley was surprised to see his skin pink and his hair black. He'd obviously applied his makeup this morning, but why? Was he still 'Paul' or was it Mista J in makeup?

"Mmm" he said, licking his lips "Smells good Alice." As he pulled a chair up to the kitchen table, Harley reflected that at least now she knew why he'd put on the makeup. It also explained his clothes- a pair of faded jeans (which, she couldn't help but notice, were extremely tight) and a plain white T-shirt. Under normal circumstances, the Joker would never wear anything so plain, so mundane so…normal.

"uhh, thanks Paul" she said, putting on a smile. It was the first time in years that she had had to fake a smile and she was sure Mista J would see right through it. He was so observant and such an expert on people. But if he did notice, he chose not to say anything and instead sat down to eat. Ordinarily, Harley was thrilled to see the Joker eating her cooking- it meant she had done something useful for him, that he appreciated her. But today was different. Normally the Joker ate his meals the same way he lived his life- without restraint and by his own rules. He would eat with his hands, tear off huge bites, chew noisily, and wolf down his food. 'Paul' ate quietly, slowly, and politely. She thought it was disgusting.

After a few bites , the Joker's chewing slowed and a puzzled expression came over his face. "Alice, my love?" he said.

A part of Harley thrilled to hear her Puddin' admit his love for her even if he wasn't acting normally. 'Still counts!' she thought to herself before she responded "Yes, Sweetie Bear?"

"Did- did you put cinnamon sugar on my bacon?"

"Er- yes, Sweetie Bear. You always eat it that way"

A dangerous (and very familiar) look entered the mad clown's eye "No, Alice, I eat my bacon plain. Like NORMAL people do. Could you make me another plate? PLEASE?"

Somehow, the Clown Prince of Crime could make even the word please sound like a death threat. Harley rushed to obey, feeling a lot better. Clearly, her Puddin' wasn't GONE, he was just… hiding. Hiding behind the façade of Paul for some reason that he didn't want to tell her. 'I can deal with that' she told herself 'It's not like this is the first time Puddin's had a plan and not told me about it'

As she fried the bacon, she realized what had been missing from her fantasy life- the Joker. Oh, he'd been there in body, but he wasn't truly being himself. He was nice, and polite, and gentle- and boring. She'd fallen in love with a charming, dangerous, violent, sexy man. With him so deeply immersed in this 'Paul' role, it'd been like she was with another man- it was almost as though she'd been cheating on the Joker with Paul!

Behind her back, he Joker sipped his coffee. "Y'know, Alice" he said speculatively "We really should go clothes shopping. All the stuff in our closets is just so, so DRAB. What do you say, Honey?"

"Okey-Dokey Mist- Paul" Harley said, a small smile on her face. She felt a lot better now that she knew that the man she loved was still there, buried beneath a protective coating of mundanity. She felt secure enough to hope that maybe they could find a balance. Find some way to combine the Joker's normal personality with a happy home life. It wouldn't be easy, but Harley believed in their love, and knew it could overcome all obstacles.

A/N

hope springs eternal. Next chapter: Shopping Spree!


	5. Chapter 5

The Lonesome Pimes mall was the largest structure in town, for better or for worse. The Town Council, who had given the architect his instructions, were not men of great artistic vision. "Make it big" they'd said "Make it spacious. Make it stand out. But don't make it too expensive". The architect had taken these 'directions' and built a big, inexpensive, cube of faux-adobe stone. The town, pleased to at last have a shopping center close at hand, hadn't cared overmuch, though some did say it was a bit ugly. Harley, a resident of the Gotham City- home of the world's premier architecture- felt otherwise. She thought it was an abomination- a hideous eyesore that should be expunged from the planet by any means necessary.

'Paul' easily found a space in the vast outdoor parking lot. They parked the Mercedes in section J-1, which made Harley giggle a bit. 'How many years ago was it that I got that file marked Patient J-1?' she thought, a dreamy expression coming across her face 'Funny to think that a little manilla folder could make me so happy'

"Remember where we parked, Alice" 'Paul' said, as they headed to the large glass doors that served as the malls entrance.

"There ain't that many candy-red Mercedes in the lot Paul. I don't think we'll be so hard to spot." She replied. This was certainly true- the lot was mostly filled with sedan's and SUV's. Harley was used to SUV's of a certain type- the kind of car that could hold a lot of loot, take a few bullets, and still manage a cross-country high speed chase. These were not that sort of car. They were essentially oversized stationwagons, designed to let overworked parents indulge their adventurous fantasies even as they ferried their kids to school. She felt sad for those people- they didn't know what real thrills were all about. The adrenaline rush of combat, the feeling in your stomach during a fire fight, not even the simple joy of that comes with running across rooftops.

They reached the huge glass doors, and got their first glimpse of the mall's interior. It had all the normal stores one expects in a mall- a Gap, a Radio Shack, a food court, and so on. In the center of the complex was a huge fountain, two stories high, with a large pool surrounding it. The water was lit by a series of colored lights, which gave each of the numerous water jets its own distinct shade. Harley had to admit, it was fairly nice- not a patch on the shopping offered at any of Gotham's larger stores, but still fairly nice.

At eleven in the morning, it was mostly empty, with a few housewives and highschool drop outs idly browsing through the stores. The Joker ambled slowly through the mall, taking in the sights such as they were. Though the wares on offer here were nothing compared to what was for sale in Gotham, he seemed entranced by what he saw in every shop window. He seemed to be most interested in clothing, although the various gadgets at Radio Shack came a close second. Finally, though, he seemed to have enough of window shopping, and dragged her into a JC Penny's with him.

The next hour was spent watching the Joker try on a succession of drab suits, each completely devoid of flair or individuality. Harley couldn't believe it- the Joker always took such pride in his clothes. He paid a small fortune to professional tailors to hand-stitch his trademark purple suits, and had his lime-green shirts made to order in France. He always said that his dress sense was the greatest difference between him and Batman. Now, that same man was buying cheap, ordinary, off-the-rack suits in colors no real Rogue would use for the carpets.

After buying clothes, they went to the food court for lunch. Harley stopped at the Circus Burger stand, since that was the Joker's preferred burger joint, but Paul waved her on. "Sorry, Alice, but I can't eat there. All those clowns…kinda ruins my appetite you know? Besides, that's a kid's kind of restaurant. What would people think of two adults eating Bozo Burgers and Funny Fries for lunch? Let's just get some bagel sandwiches at the coffee shop, okay honey?"

Harley was stunned- the Joker never worried about what ANYONE thought of him EVER. It was what had first attracted her, really- she had always worked hard to gain the approval of others, and here was someone who honestly couldn't care less how others saw him. Now he was worrying about picking the right place to eat! She mulled this over as she ate her overpriced cheese sandwich and drank her fancy coffee.

She wondered if this was the way that he'd been…before. Before the Joker. Before the Red Hood. Before his accident. She knew he'd had a life before all that (even if she was never sure what it had been). Sometimes, when she was all alone, she wondered what he'd been like then. It wasn't something she wanted to do- she told herself that whoever he'd been was gone, and only the Joker remained. But in the absence of other stimuli, her mind inevitably returned to the Joker, and she wondered. Would he have loved her? Would she have loved him? Did he have a career? Who were his friends? Had he been married? Was there, even now, a woman out there who had more claim on her Puddin' than she did? That last question was the one that worried her most of all.

Sometimes, at night, he would mumble names in his sleep. Some nights it was Jeannie, others it was Debbie. Sometimes he would cry in his sleep when he said them while at other times he was having mumbled conversations. The next day, he would claim to have forgotten his dreams, or even that he had never been asleep. She never pushed the point, but all the same it worried her.

'Maybe' she thought, with a feeling of dread 'Maybe this is who he really is. Maybe his previous self was just another suburban guy, working at the office in drab brown suits. Maybe being here, in a familiar environment, has done what Arkham Asylum never could: Returned the Joker to normalcy.  
'He really does seem so happy' she thought, as she watched the man she loved chat with the waiter. 'How can I just ruin his happiness?' Once, curing the Joker had been her dream. But now, it seemed like a crime against nature. Humanity needed the Joker, to show it how ridiculous it really was. He kept the Batman on his toes, and entertained the masses with his merry jokes and pranks. The world needed him! SHE needed him! For the good of the many, Paul Stebbs had to die…again.

After lunch, the pair went shopping for women's clothes. Harley picked out old-style dresses and gowns, long and colorful clothes from the Flapper years and the Roaring Twenties- the era that the Joker used as inspiration for his own clothes. 'Maybe this will jolt him back to normal' she thought as she admired herself in the mirror. She stepped out, and Paul looked at her choices, before slowly shaking his head and chuckling.

"Very funny, Alice" he said in amused tones "Ha ha ha. Now, put those away before someone sees you and come back with some real clothes, okay sweetheart? Honestly, you and your jokes…"

Harley went back to the dress racks, fuming slightly over her failure. 'Okay, old time dresses didn't work. Let's try colors' she thought. She selected a variety of outfits all of which were in either hers or the Joker's trademark colors. Returning outside, she once again submitted her choices for evaluation. The Joker cast aside her purple gown right from the start. The red shirts he approved, as well as the black pants and dresses. He cast aside the pantsuits no matter their color.

"Well" he said grudgingly "they're nice enough I suppose, though I wish you'd picked a few other colors. But if they're what you want, then I guess they'll do fine. Don't forget, tonight we have dinner with George and Doris from next door!"

"Oh. Joy." Harley said, her voice dead pan. But she remained resolute. Come Hell, high water or dinner parties, she would get her Puddin' back!


	6. Chapter 6

The ride back 'home' was uneventful- Harley was consumed by her own thoughts, and stared out the window as she tried to think of ways to bring her Puddin' back. The trouble was that, while Harley was a trained psychologist, all her studies had eben geared towards making people behave more normally. Since this was the exact opposite of what she wanted, she was finding it hard going.

Meanwhile, Paul was busy singing along with the radio. He had the radio tuned to some Classic Rock station- and was happily singing along to Meatloaf's "Bat Outta Hell", and snapping his fingers in time to the beat.

"Oh baby you're the only thing in this whole world That's pure and good and right And wherever you are and wherever you go There's always gonna be some light" Paul sang, his voice a pleasant alto (though a bit wobbly in parts). "Come on, Alice, cheer up! Put on a smile! We've got nice new clothes, the neighbors are coming for dinner, and we're going to have a great time tonight!"

"Sure thing, Paul!" Harley said, forcing a grin. She felt like such a heel, lying to her Puddin'. Except…it WASN'T her Puddin', was it? Whoever this guy was, he'd usurped Mista J's place, and was trying to take over. It was just like that jerk the Creeper- not only had the yellow freak tried to take over Mista J's act, he kept hitting on her.

"Did I ever tell you, Alice, that you have a beautiful smile?" Paul said, adoration written on his face. He reached a hand around Harley's shoulders and pulled her close.

Harley was flummoxed. On the one hand, she treasured any display of affection or love that she could get from the Joker. It was so rare that every kiss, every caress, every kind word was like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day. But on the other hand, this wasn't the Joker. This was…someone else. His touch was unpleasant- she swore she could feel her skin crawling under his fingers. She subtly slithered out from under his hand, and resolved to have a long shower the moment they got back to the house. But Harley was an eteranl optimist- she knew she'd find a way to bring Mista J back to his normal wonderful self.

The moment the Mercedes pulled into the garage, Harley leapt out and raced for the bathroom. She closed the door and looked in the mirror. "You stupid girl" she told the reflection "Ya had the perfect guy- sexy, charming, exciting- and ya had ta wish for more. Well now ya got it and you're miserable!" The woman in the mirror didn't respond to the accusation, she just scowled right back at her. With a sigh, Harley stripped off her new clothes and entered the large glass shower-stall.

One thing she did like about Arkham was the shower. Mista J rarely considered niceties like plumbing when he selected temporary hideouts or even their more permanent Ha-Haciendas. Often the shower was nothing more than a trickle of tepid water, and Harley had gotten used to going days or even weeks without proper showers. After a long time like that, the asylum's powerful jets of hot water were a godsend- which was more than counterbalanced by the fact that she was locked up in a loony bin. Now, though, she had her freedom and a great shower and she intended to make good use of both.

'oh, ick' she thought as she turned up the waters temperature 'I can still feel where he touched me. All gross and yucky'

Harley proceeded to scrub every inch of herself with a washcloth and soap, trying to get rid of the feel of 'Paul's' hands. Finally, when her whole body was bright pink and the air in the bathroom was thick with steam, she felt clean. Now, she began her normal shower- a regular scrubdown, followed by shampooing her hair. At that moment, she heard the door open and felt a gust of cool air.

"Occupied! Occupied!" she called, hoping that Paul was only there to wash his hands or something. But it soon became clear that he had other things on his mind.

After a moment of silence, a naked Paul opened the shower door. Harley instinctively looked over Paul's lanky, tanned frame – and her eyes widened when she saw physical proof of his intentions. She screwed her eyes shut and cursed herself for having bought the water-proof skin dye for Mista J. At the time she'd been so proud of herself for remembering, but now it meant that Paul could enter the shower without compromising his disguise.

"Hello, Alice" he said softly, leaning his face into her wet hair "I thought I'd join you. After all, you need someone to help you scrub your back, don't you?"

Harley's treacherous body shivered at the feeling of hot breath near her ear "Um, um, a-actually I'm almost finished mist- PAUL!" The last word came out as a squeak. Her higher mind might know that this was an impostor, but her instincts told her that her mate was naked right next to her and kept making suggestions regarding what to do about that.

"Nonsense" Paul said, his mouth inches from her ear, and his hands roaming down her back "You're still very…very…dirty, aren't you?" He very gently kissed her and nibbled slightly on her earlobe.

"Um, um" Harley was panicking, backing away from this stranger who'd taken her Puddin's place. Unfortunately the small shower stall didn't give her a lot of room to run. She could feel the stranger's hand now roaming up her leg. She nearly fell over in her haste to get away, when providence intervened. In the distance she heard the harsh jangling of the telephone.

Working hard to keep the relief out of her voice, she cried "I'll get it!" and hastily exited the stall. Pausing only to wrap a towl around herself, she hurried to the phone.

"Heloo? Doris? Oh no, just getting out of the shower. What? No, I was done. Thank you." Harley made the usual banal pleasantries, idly wishing she could kill the woman for being so boring. "You'll be here at nine? All right, thanks for calling. Byeee" Harley hung up the phone and sagged against the wall. After a moment she went back upstairs to the bedroom and began getting dressed.

Paul's head emerged from the shower "Alice, if you're not coming back in, would you mind washing the floors? When I get out, I'll start the dusting, okay sweetie?"

"Sure thing…Paul" Harley said. The minute the door shut she stuck her tongue out at it. Under her breath she muttered "lousy no-good nobody. Stealing my Puddin's place."


	7. Chapter 7

Harley had a lot of experience in cleaning quickly, a necessity when you work for the Joker. After all, chemical spills had to be mopped up fast, and blood had to be cleaned immediately or it stained. Not to mention the various other substances people spewed when they died- shit, piss, vomit, bile, and so forth. So it was that she had quite a bit of the floor done when Paul exited the bathroom. HE took a look around and whistled.

"Wow, Alice" he said in tones of real admiration "You're incredible. It'd take me an hour to do this much work."

Harley smiled, this time for real. She'd hatched a plan while she was working; one that she was sure would bring Mista J back to himself. If tapping his memories didn't work, then maybe his sense of humor would. She'd checked the refrigerator and found a cream pie- the perfect prop for her plan. After cutting herself a small slice (which she threw out) she left the pie out on the counter and waited. Now that Paul was in the room, it was time to act.

"Oopsie! I left the pie out!" she said, and picked the dessert up off the table. As she headed back towards the fridge, she tucked one foot behind the other to simulate a slip, while tossing the pie into the air at a precisely calculated angle. At the height of her tumble, she jerked her knees just so, and landed right on her butt. With perfect timing, the pie descended and crash landed on her head. As an unexpected bonus, the cherry landed (and balanced) right on the tip of her nose.

While she kept her expression suitably bewildered, inwardly she cheered herself for a perfect Buster Keaton Pratfall, worthy of the master himself. . She waited expectantly for the Joker's raucous laughter to erupt. He loved Keaton's physical comedy skills, and had often used them to school Harley in the finer points of physical comedy. There was no way he'd be able to resist a gag like that. No. Way.

But the laughter never came. Instead, she felt Paul's hand on her arm helping her up, and saw his face contorted with worry.

"Alice! Are you okay? Is anything broken?" He asked, concern evident in every word.

"Uh, y-yeah. I guess I just slipped. Heh. Pretty funny, huh?"

"Funny nothing!" Paul drew her face close to his and spoke sternly "Do you know how many people cripple themselves- or worse!- falling the way you just did? If you'd landed differently, you could have cracked your skull, or broken your neck! As it was, you might have shattered a hip or broken a leg! Are you SURE you're alright?"

Harley mouthed a few reassurances, smiling the whole time, but inside she was close to tears. She'd been so sure that would work! She excused herself to go wash up. As she scrubbed her face, Harley came to a decision: The only way to bring the Joker back was a direct confrontation. Stride in their in full costume and tell her man that he was NOT Paul Stebbs, he was the Joker! It would almost certainly be suicide, since the Joker was unlikely to forgive her contradicting him even in this, but damn it this was more important than just her life!

But first, she needed to get dressed. She raced to the bedroom and slipped her Harlequin outfit out of the closet. After a moment, she examined herself in the mirror. 'It's funny' she thought, idly flicking one of her bells 'when I first put on a costume I remember thinking how uncomfortable all this spandex felt. Now, regular clothes feel weird. Oh, well, no sense stalling. I gotta go save my Puddin', even if he kills me for it!'

She hurried downstairs and peeked in the kitchen. Paul stood by the sink, washing dishes and whistling to himself. She took a deep breath and burst into the room.

"Awright, Mista J the joke's gone on long enough!"

"Alice? What?" Paul looked bewildered "What are you wearing?"

"I ain't Alice Stebbs an' you ain't Paul! I'm Harley Quinn, psychiatrist-turned-psycho, an' you're the Joker! The Clown Prince of Crime! The Mogul of Mountebanks! The Prince of Pranks! A murderous, psychotic, deluded, sweet, charming, angel! ! All this? The suburbs, the shopping, the blah suits and even blah-er neighbors? This ain't you! You murder! You torture! You battle the Bat high over Gotham City! That's who you are, an' it's time ya started acting like it. So getcher purple suit on, wash off that stupid tan, an' let's head back to Gotham for mayhem and murder" She finished her rant, her chest heaving both from the long speech and from sheer terror.

Paul stared at her for a moment, and at first she imagined that she had gotten through to him. Then he started to laugh- not the Joker's heart-felt, roaring laughter but a soft- aroused?- chuckle.

"Why, Alice, you naughty thing. If you wanted to try a little role-playing, why didn't you just say so? All right, I'm the Joker! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Harley winced at the pale imitation of her Puddin's joyful laugh "And for my first crime, I think I will steal you away to the bedroom! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" With that, Paul scooped her up in his arms. Harley went limp, and surrendered to the inevitable.

Another tedious round of sex followed. Paul did everything a good lover should do- he touched, stroked, kissed and rubbed all the right places at all the right times. But Harley felt nothing but revulsion at his touch- revulsion and failure. She'd failed yet again. Afterward, as Paul lay basking in the afterglow, she crept downstairs to watch the news. She'd been out of touch for a while and who knew? Maybe there'd be something on the tube to take her mind off her troubles.

Instead, she saw something that filled her with hope! THIS would do the trick for sure!

"PAUL! Come and see what's on the news! Come quick!"

Paul raced into the den, his bathrobe flapping open, just in time to catch the tail-end of the report. "…and so, thanks to amateur video of the robbery, we are proud to show you rare footage of the legendary Batman in action. Enjoy." This was followed by a blurry recording of a bunch of thugs being beaten senseless by a tall dark figure in a cape.

Harley turned to her man expectantly. "So what did ya think, sweetie?"

"I think that Batman is about as real as Santa Claus" Paul said with a small smile "That video's an obvious fake, Alice! Heck, I could shoot the exact same thing in our backyard! Batman…ha! Some people will believe anything, right sweetie? Well, better get back to work! As much fun as our little break was, there's still a lot to do!" He turned and strode upstairs to get dressed.

Behind him, Harley sat down on the couch and buried her face in her hands. She knew her Puddin' better than anyone, and knew how important Batman was to his world. The Dark Knight was the Joker's raison d'etre, the center of his universe. If Batman couldn't bring her man back, then there really was no hope at all. She plodded upstairs to the shower.

As she cleaned herself up, she numbly considered what to do. Could she stay? Try to make a life with…Paul? It wasn't a completely unappealing idea- he was a loving and attentive husband. Not a bad second choice, if Mista J wasn't available. But he wasn't the Joker, and really that was the beginning and the end of it. Harley knew, now, that she could never be really happy with anyone but the Joker, and staying here wouldn't change that.

But she couldn't leave tonight- she owed him that much at least. She'd stay for their dinner party, and leave in the morning. She'd tell him…something. That it just wasn't working, that there was some one else, that it wasn't him it was her… whatever, she'd think of something. And then away, either to Gotham or maybe to Arkham. Maybe the doctors could help her out, help her find happiness now that the Joker was gone.

She wondered, idly, what the authorities would do if they learned what had happened. She guessed that they wouldn't do anything. After all, the Stebbs' were already gone, weren't they? And this was their one real chance to be rid of the Joker once and for all. They'd keep an eye on Paul, obviously, but that would be it. 'Meanies' she thought 'Stupidheads. They can't even see how much poorer their lives will be without Mista J's pranks. Who'm I kiddin? I didn't appreciate 'em either, but now he'll never pull another one.'

With that, Harley sat down on the shower floor and started to cry.

A/N  
I don't see Harley as being a hetero-, homo-, or even a bi-sexual. Rather, I see her as being essentially a Jokersexual. She is most aroused by the Joker (and who could blame her?) and he's the central figure in her libido just as he is in her life. Any relationships she might have are basically just a means of killing time, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if she was thinking of Mista J the whole time she was in bed with, say, Poison Ivy.


	8. Chapter 8

The Mayfelds arrived at nine o'clock sharp. George wore a plain herringbone suit, while Doris wore a green dress. The children were also there, wearing their very best clothes. They had walked all of fifty feet to reach the Stebbs home but, Harley noted with disdain, they managed to track mud into the house. Doris was carrying a dish, which no doubt contained another rancid casserole, which Harley took with a big smile.

Paul was wearing a brown suit he'd picked up at the mall, along with black loafers and for some reason was smoking a pipe. He welcomed his guests fulsomely, ushering them into his home with sweeping gestures. He shook hands with each of the young boys, and bowed low to the little girl- which set her giggling, shyly. Harley, unremarked by all, grimaced- unless she was mistaken, the little brat had a crush on her mist- on Paul. The thought would normally have sparked jealousy and murderous rage- but instead, Harley felt nothing at all.

Paul spent the next half an hour entertaining his guests with a variety of magic tricks and jokes. The tricks were good- Paul clearly remembered some of his time as the Joker, for Harley had never met anyone who could equal Mista J in slight of hand. He made handkerchiefs disappear from his right hand, only to emerge from his left wrapped around candy. He pulled a long rope from his trouser pocket, then made it vanish again. All the while, he recited truly ancient jokes- joker her Puddin' would rather die than say- but which were somehow made funny by the mans charisma and delivery. He finished by pulling a Christmas light from his ear, and commenting on what a bright fellow he was.

Then, dinner was served. It was a simple meal, the kind Harley did best. Her time with the Joker had taught her how to prepare all manner of sweets, but not much about main courses. Still, she had managed a serviceable pot roast, mashed potatoes with fairly few lumps, and a superb apple cobbler. This last had been hastily prepared when Paul pointed out that she had 'accidentally' ruined dessert and could she be a doll and make something?

After an hour, the children began yawning. "Oh, dear" Doris fretted "I knew this was too late for them. Kids, take momma's key and go home. Tom, you're to see to it the others go straight to bed after they've brushed their teeth."

"Yes momma" the oldest boy said, as he ushered his sleepy siblings back home "Will you be home soon?"

"In an hour or two. Say good night to Paul and Alice, kids" George said, kissing his children good-night.

"Goodnight Paul! Goodnight Mrs Stebbs!" The children chorused. It was so sweet Harley thought she might contract diabetes from the saccharine nature of the scene. Or vomit.

'Ta think' she thought as she escorted the children to the door ' I once wanted a mess'a brats just like these! UGH! I'da put 'em in a sack and tossed 'em in the river inside of a year!'  
Despite her growing homicidal feelings, she forced herself to smile and wave as the brats showed themselves out.

With the children gone, the conversation turned to more serious matters. Harley sat, bored almost to tears, as Paul and the Mayfelds discussed the pros and cons of various mutual funds, and the importance of a diverse investment portfolio. She reflected on how surprised most people would be to hear the Clown Prince of Crime having this conversation- to hear him discourse at length about cost-benefit analyses, and growth rates. But she had long ago ceased to be shocked by her man's sheer breadth of knowledge.

She remembered, once, they had gone to a restaurant in Chinatown. They had been incognito, just two ordinary Gothamites out for a meal. Unfortunately, the restaurant they chose was a small one, run by recent immigrants and which primarily catered to locals. Neither the owner nor the waiter spoke English, and Harley was getting ready to leave- when the Joker started to order in perfect Cantonese. When asked about it, he had simply shrugged and said that he'd picked it up 'here and there'. That was one of the more amazing things about Mista J. He really could learn things a bit at a time, picking it up here and there- and wind up an expert. One of his many, many marvelous qualities…

Harley could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and quickly made her excuses. She retreated to the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and started to cry. Her Mista J had been the ultimate man- the kind of man all women want. Sexy, charming, wild, spontaneous, funny, brilliant… the list went on and on. And, for an all too brief time, he'd been HERS. She knew that, even when the Joker wasn't around her, he never even looked at other women. She'd been the happiest she'd ever been in her whole life…

And she'd gotten greedy. She'd started wishing for more and something- or Someone- had listened. She'd lost EVERYTHING.

Eventually, Harley stopped crying- not because she felt any better, but because she had simply run out of tears to shed. She washed her face, touched up her makeup, and returned to the dining room. Back at the table, Paul was regaling the Mayfeld's with tales of his college life. He paused when Harley walked into the room.

"Alice" he said, his voice tinged with concern "Are you feeling all right? You were gone an awfully long time."

"Oh, I'm fine Paul" Harley said, with a small laugh "Just…a touch of indigestion, that's all."

"Well, if you're sure…" Paul said, and turned his attention back to his guests "Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. So, there I was, hanging upside down from the ceiling in the Dean's office…" Paul's story went on, and Harley listened with half an ear. It was a fairly entertaining story, in its way- full of the usual bawdy, self-deprecating humor that characterizes most college anecdotes-but not a patch on the Joker's usual epic tales of murder, mayhem and hilarity.

Harley endured the tedium for as long as she felt she could, then excused herself to the kitchen to make some tea. She didn't know how much more of this she could take! She looked at the clock, sure that it must be midnight or close to it- late enough for her to end the evening by claiming to be exhausted. But no, it was only quarter to eleven and still too early. She put the kettle on the range, and sat down to wait.

Her thoughts drifted to the future. She had already decided to leave in the morning, but not where she would go. Her choices were pretty limited- her family had disowned her long ago, she couldn't hope to make a living on her degree ever again, and most of her old friends were long gone. Basically, she could go to Gotham and hope that either Red or Professor Crane were in town to help her, or she could go back to Arkham and let the doctors there try to help her. Not help her to become 'sane'- she knew that she had always been sane- but to get her life on track. Arkham Asylum offered numerous programs designed to help the newly-released reintegrate into society, including job training, housing placement, and career advice. They'd helped Arnold Wesker put together a normal life- however briefly- maybe they'd be able to help her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shriek from the dining room, quickly silenced. Then, she heard George Mayfeld screaming.

"OH MY GOD! DORIS! WH-WHAT THE HELL DID YOU- AAAARGGH!!"

Racing to the dining room, Harley was stunned by what she saw. Doris sat slumped in her chair, her head kept off the table by the large knife protruding from her right eye. George sat ramrod straight in his chair, pinned to the back of the seat by the fork in his neck. At the head of the table, Paul- no, she realized with growing joy- the Joker sat, seemingly unaware of his companions, with his feet crossed on the table, and one finger picking his teeth. At the sound of the door, the Joker turned to see Harley.

"Ah, Harley, there you are" the Joker said, as though nothing had happened at all "Take out guests out to the garage while I get the makeup remover. I'm done playing for now"

"P-Playing? Puddin', what…" Harley said, unable to believe this.

"Yes, playing. I thought I'd see how the lemmings lived, sample the suburban life. It's not something I've ever done before…at least, I don't think I have. Anyway, I'm done now"

Though she was relieved that her man was back, Harley felt herself filling with rage. "Y-ya mean…ALL THAT WAS JUST A GAME?! I went through HELL the last couplea days, I thought I'd LOST YOU, and it was just a stupid GAME TO YOU?!"

Before Harley could even register the movement, the Joker was right in her face, his long nose pressed to hers. He shoved her back against the wall, and leaned closer still. "Exactly Harley. It was a game, something to amuse me. Is that a … problem?" The last word was low and menacing, almost a growl.

"No, Puddin'. Not at all, Puddin'" Harley couldn't stay mad at him, not now. She had her Puddin' back, and that was all that mattered. As she grabbed Doris's body she heard the Joker head upstairs to the bathroom, presumably with the makeup remover she kept in her purse.

By the time she got George into the garage, the Joker was waiting. His face was bone white, his hair was acid green, and he was once more dressed in his favorite suit. He had a big smile on his face.

"Harley, I want to thank you. You made this game SO much more interesting. You were the perfect sitcom wife…plus, that pratfall was exquisite! Especially the cherry on the nose! HAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"

"Th- Thanks Mista J! I been working on my tumbling!" She said, basking in the warm glow of the Joker's praise. "What are we gonna do with the neighbors, Sweetie-Bear?"

"Hmmm" the Joker lifted George up by his collar "Tsk, tsk, tsk. George, George, George. Overindulging in alcohol is fine when you're young, but at your age you really should know better. But worry not, we'll help you and the missus get home safe. Hmmm… you'll have to lose some weight, first… HARLEY! Get into some proper clothes, and put your face on" The Joker moved to the toolbench and picked up a hacksaw. "Then get in the car, and get ready to drive"

* * *

Outside, Harley Quinn waited for her love to return. She wore her costume, and her face was painted perfectly. She saw the Joker exit the garage, a large black garbage bag hefted over one shoulder, striding purposely towards the Mayfelds house. He stopped in front of the large picture window, and stood for a moment. Then he began to spin, extending the sack, before tossing the bag through the window. "HEY KIDS!" He yelled "Come see what old uncle Paul brought you!" Then he raced to the car and hopped in.

Cocking one hand to his ear, the Clown Prince of Crime waited, snickering. Soon, three voices screamed shrilly.

"MOMMA?! DADDY?!" One voice, a girl's and more vocal than the rest, called out. This sent the Joker into hysterics.

"YAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! Drive Harley-Girl, drive! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!"

The Mercedes roared off into the night. Without needing to be told, Harley took the onramp to the highway, and drove in the direction of Gotham. For a time the only sound in the car was the Joker's rollicking laughter. Eventually, even that slowed to chuckles and eventually to silence. Soon after, Harley pulled the car over.

"Harley, why have we stopped?" The Joker asked, wiping tears from his eyes "Oh, don't tell me you're still angry about my little game."

"No, Puddin'. I wanna tell you somethin'." Harley turned to look at her man, her face solemn "Ya remember how I dream about us makin' a family together? An' settling down?"

"Yes" the Joker sighed, rolling his eyes. He was NOT in the mood for another of Harley's dreams.

She always did this- she would go on and on and on about this idiotic fantasy of hers. God only knew how much worse it would be now that they'd played at the real thing. He was somewhat surprised when his moll leaned over and hugged him.

"I changed my mind! I don't want anya that! I just want us to be Joker and Harley, forever an' ever an' ever an' ever!"

"Well, it's nice to see you're finally starting to wise up, Harley-girl. Now, drive on! My audience awaits!"

The car raced along the nearly-empty highway towards Gotham City. Harley knew that the next while was likely to be uncomfortable. Her Puddin would ignore her, she'd be beaten by the Bat and his brats, she would be cold and hungry, and would most likely end up back in Arkham within the month. She was happy.

The End

A/N  
I know that some of you will no doubt be disappointed by this ending. You will have expected something more- a deep psychological study, an intricate master plan, or some such. But, the reality is, this whole story began with one vision. I saw, in my minds eye, the Joker sitting at an ornate dinner table surrounded by dead bodies. The vision looked cool so I thought 'How can I make this scene a reality? How did he get to this point?' And so Suburban Fun And Games was born. It was never supposed to be more than a funny little story.

But then reviews started coming in, and it was clear that you saw more in my story than I had intended to put there. That's the reason this update was so long in coming- I was desperately searching for an ending that wouldn't seem anti-climactic. But I couldn't think of one that pleased me so I went with my original plan. If you expected more, or better, please accept my apologies.

Oh, and I can TOTALLY see the Joker doing this. His life is basically lived by the motto "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law" (with respect to Aleister Crowley), and the idea might interest him- a wolf, not just wearing sheep's clothing, but living as a sheep. I doubt he remembers the events of Going Sane, at least not on a conscious level, so it would all be new to him.


End file.
